Human Tales
by Tengaar
Summary: For magical children, nothing could be more boring than listen to Fairy Tales. So they decided to find something else to do !


**Just my contribution to a challenge : Folk and Fairy tales in less than 1600 words (1582 exactly).**

**I hope you will enjoy it though english is not my mother tongue.**

**See you ^^**

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**Human Tales**

Once upon a time there was the greatest gathering in the Olden Woods that ever was seen. All creatures from goblins to fairies, talking cats, wise donkeys, olds creatures from myths that were long ago forgotten, some brownies and dwarves, and even in a dark place, far from the joyfull fire, in the shadows of trees, banshees and others phantoms, all had come to celebrate the new decade with songs, dances and beers.

Like all children, Triskin didn't know the old songs nor could he dance and of course beer was forbidden. What remained was the reading of ancient stories and legends, of how some godmothers succeeded in their quests for bringing happiness or some dwarves helped damsels in distress. Every ten years and for two long, very long weeks, there were the same stories narrated by the same slow and profound voice. How impatient to grow older he was that Triskin goblin.

Indeed Triskin was that kind of creature, short legged (just short in fact), with an olive-greenish skin and ears as pointed as a wizard hat, which was not that common even among goblins. He was a relatively well-behaved one, polite with dwarves and griffons, the other people of rocks. And a rascal with everyone else at the noteworthy exception of his three friends : O'Miara, the little lady fairy who could only cast two spells, Jezro the ifrit that could hardly burn the tiniest wisp of straw and Wickey the spirit of the thirty-seventh tribe of jackalopes. Fortunately for him, he did not have to carry his horned rabbits everywhere : when he was asked, he just said that the soul of the animals could flow through him. What a convenient way to explain such great magic.

They were happy children though and nothing could trouble their ease. Except maybe the insidious boredom that knocked each hour, each minute on their heart. Tap tap. Let the elders behind you. Tap tap. Run away from this fire. Tap tap. Don't fall asleep and live. Until one day, the second day of the Gathering if you wish to know, that desire for something new, for something out of reach, for something unexpected became so strong that they dared thinking of leaving the circle where the others were sitting.

But thinking of leaving and actually doing it were two differents things : one was exciting and comfortable and the other just perilous and uncertain. As a goblin, Triskin would have no difficulties to leave the circle nor would have Jezro, who could turn himself in a will-o-the-wisp (which was really strange for an oriental genie). Wickey should be a little more cautious but his animal spirit makes himself a careful nature. And then, there was O'Miara. How could they slip out of the elders view with a shining red-haired girl ? For God sake, could she not dye her hair in black ? Above all, every moves she made was accompanied by many beautiful but garish sprays of multicolor sparks. So, they were stuck here.

The tale of the master Cat and master Carabas. The tricks of the Wichtelmænner. The tale of Cinderella's godmother. The songs of the Bremen town-musicians. All of them were perfect if you needed to sleep but O'Miara didn't. She wanted to seek some excitement. She turned her head toward Wickey and whispered him some words that he couldn't hear. She tried again a bit louder; children close to her protested and Wickey still couldn't hear. He was fascinated by the stories. Then she decided to look on the left, where Jezro was sitting, far from her. It took long minutes, and two other stories, to catch his attention and then she began to slowly beat her wings. Sparks escaped from her and after some attempts, and for want of controlling their abundance, she managed to choose perfectly their color and direction. Many coughs around her tried to make her understand what an annoyance she was. She did not care. She had remembered a book Triskin stole in the library, in the human section. It was called _Junior Woodchucks Guidebook_ and among everything and anything written in there, they had found a way to communicate with light. She just had to recall it properly. It was about dots and dashes. She was sure Jezro would remember, he always did when it comes to light. And finally they communicated. After a few exchanges, she refolded her wings and waited. A tale, and another one, and another one. And then, Jezro began to fade away imperceptibly, his image flickered, became cloudy. Little by little his body was surrounded by darkness. The process was so slow that none of his neighbours noticed anything until he totally turned himself into a little flame. And so, he could get close to Wickey's ear. And, only at that time, he could eventually listen to what his friends had to say. Discreetly, he removed his wool blanket from his shoulders, rolled it up into a ball and throwed it to O'Miara. The storyteller frowned toward them and they froze. It took seven more tales before they dared moving again. The lady fairy wraped herself tightly so that nobody could see her shine and with Wickey, they shifted centimeters by centimeters outside the circle. Countless boring stories later, they joined Triskin and Jezro waiting for them in the dark woods, almost asleep. O'Miara shivered.

Their first task was completed. Now the real adventure began. As usual, Triskin took the leadership, though he was the smallest. He was proud to say he was the smartest and no one ever said the opposite. So he was their leader and he was ready for something great : a ride in the forest.

"Wickey, we need four of your so-called rabbits and Mia do your trick, he ordered.

- Those are jackalopes !

- It's O'Miara !

Both complained.

- And which magic do you want me to use by the way ? she asked.

- You only know two of them and only one could be qualified as useful."

She opened her eyes wide facing this insult : her magic was great, way more than his goblin tricks. Meanwhile, Wickey had summoned the thirty-seventh tribe and asked, with acumen and a bit toadying, if four of them could help. After long minutes, during which Jezro had dreamed of spit roasted rabbits, four jackalopes finally agreed to stay in the material world. The djinn sighed, Wickey wiped his sweat away from his forehead and Triskin stamped his feet. All looks turned toward O'Miara who had pulled out her magic wand and begun her spell. Many sparkling and shining effects later, the four horned rabbits had turned into pony, small for sure but white as every mounts should be. Then she helped Triskin to sit on one of them, get on another and so the four companions could ride.

It was no wild cavalcade and O'Miara's hair remained docilely in a tight braid. To tell the truth, it was a boring journey. Heading the group, Jezro brought some light through the shadows of the trees. Everything was quiet, birds chirped, and they could hear some animals coming close to them and walking away. They did not like djinns. Many hills and rivers later (let's say something like twenty-three tales later), they found a road. And, at the end of the road, they found a house. Not the thatched cottage you expected in the Olden Woods but a designer house with bay windows and concrete everywhere. Did a human live here ? That was a scary idea. The boys could see O'Miara shaking. Humans were dangerous, most of them, those who were not chosen by the ancients. Wickey was about to ask his friends to turn back, when Triskin, jumping down his mount, knocked on the door and entered. O'Miara, more proud than terrified, followed him, Jezro behind her. Wickey waited a minute and felt the obligation of following them too.

The inside was big, spacious, impressive. Suddenly, they heard someone sneezed. They held their breath. Here, in the middle of the room, in front of a modern fireplace without fire, an old dwarf was sitting. The four children allowed themselves some relief, no human after all. The owner looked at them, amused :

"Oh, oh, children, he said, you are trying to escape from the old tales. But that's not how good children should behave. Come and sit round the fire, I will read you something."

Despondency floated over them even though they went sitting.

The old dwarf left them a moment and came back with a strange book they had never seen before. Perhaps they will have new stories for a change.

"Here are new tales, children. Here are human tales, the ones you shouldn't listen to. Some are funny, some don't end well, some are impressive and some of them are just weird but that's how humans are. Let me read this one. It is called "The man who walked on the Moon".

- It is not possible to walk on the Moon, O'Miara cut him short . Even with magic. And humans don't have any magic.

- But they have science, Wickey said.

- Just shut up both of you for once, ended Triskin.

The dwarf smiled and then began :

" Once upon a time, in a country called United States, was a President who decided that his nation would walk on the Moon ..."


End file.
